


What's the Story? (Morning Glory)

by CC99trialanderrorgirl



Series: Oasis Song Fics [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars VIII: The Last Jedi
Genre: Armitage Hux Character Study, Aspirations of Glory & Grandeur, Character Study, Gen, It's Very Hux, Morning Routine, Oasis, Shaving, Song Lyrics, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:10:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC99trialanderrorgirl/pseuds/CC99trialanderrorgirl
Summary: Hux & "(What's the Story) Morning Glory?" by Oasis, doing his hair and shaving and trying to psych himself up with his militant dreams of grandeur while willfully ignoring his insecurities and obsessive tendencies.





	What's the Story? (Morning Glory)

_(All your dreams are made)_

Splashing his face with cold water, he goes through his morning visualization: gold singlet crown, white military cape, crisply creased pants, and sleek shined black boots. A crowd, jostling and attentive. Someone hands him a voice amplifier. The First Order banner billows behind him in the bright sun.

_(When you're chained to the mirror and the razor blade)_

Hux opens his eyes after wiping his face dry. Opening a sleek drawer built into the unit in his personal ‘fresher, he removes a straight razor and a tube of cream. He applies a layer of foam, and carefully drags the blade over his skin.

  
_(Today's the day that all the world will see)_

With each stroke, he imagines weakness sloughing off along with the stubble. He will mold himself into the very image of greatness. He does it everyday.

_(Another sunny afternoon)_

When he’s finished, he smirks at the mirror.

_(Walking to the sound of my favorite tune)_

He plays back the text of his latest speech in his head, starting at the end and working backwards, while he combs his hair.

_(Tomorrow never knows what it doesn't know too soon)_

He slicks his locks flat against his skull and thinks: they’ll never see it coming.

_(Need a little time to wake up)_

He walks over to the small kitchen unit at the fore of his quarters.

_(Need a little time to wake up, wake up)_

His stride does not deviate from the clipped, precise gait he uses on the bridge. His bare feet do not interfere with his ramrod straight posture.

_(Need a little time to wake up)_

He presses the button four times in quick succession and waits for the caf to pour into the same First Order issued mug he drinks from every morning.

_(Need a little time to rest your mind)_

Throughout it all, he never stops thinking. He grabs his datapad and sketches out some quick schematics for an improvement to the engine intake valves for the latest batch of TIE Interceptors.

_(You know you should so I guess you might as well)_

He does not yawn; he simply opens his mouth. Touching two fingers off his lips, he notices that the caf is done.

_(What's the story, morning glory?)_

He downs it.

_(Well)_

Brews another one.

_(You need a little time to wake up, wake up)_

Downs that one as well.

_(Well)_

Striding to his closet, he begins to dress himself for his day.

_(What's the story, morning glory?)_

Reverently, he removes the greatcoat from its hanger and lays it across the bed.

_(Well)_

It is neatly made up, of course. All four corners tucked tight, the material folded at sharp right angles.

_(Need a little time to wake up, wake up)_

He pulls his sleep shirt off and tugs a fresh undershirt over his head.

_(All your dreams are made)_

As he buttons his jodhpurs and slides the smooth leather belt through the loop, he feels himself relax.

_(When you're chained to the mirror and the razor blade)_

This uniform represents who he is. He treats it with great care, buttoning himself into his jacket smoothly.

_(Today's the day that all the world will see)_

He is the _General_. He is in charge. Of everything and everyone. He spends every waking moment making sure of it.

_(Another sunny afternoon)_

He lets his mind return to the fantasy of being crowned the Emperor once again as he arranges the greatcoat over his shoulders in the mirror.

_(Walking to the sound of my favorite tune)_

The coronation march echoes at the back of his thoughts as he looks upon his reflection.

_(Tomorrow never knows what it doesn't know too soon)_

It’s time for the boots. He strides to the little vestibule and sits down on the little bench he keeps there expressly for this purpose.

_(Need a little time to wake up)_

He draws one immaculate boot on, relishing the way it encases his calves just this side of too tightly and pinches at the tips of his toes.

_(Need a little time to wake up, wake up)_

He runs an open palm over the leather once, then spits into his hand and rubs the oils from his skin away. Nothing short of perfection is tolerable. Not for him.

_(Need a little time to wake up)_

He repeats the ritual with his other boot and smiles to himself when he’s done.

_(Need a little time to rest your mind)_

Hux does not rest. Hux _plans_.

_(You know you should so I guess you might as well)_

Boots on and greatcoat covering him, he feels invincible. Unstoppable. _Glorified_.

_(What's the story, morning glory?)_

He steps up to the low couch pushed up against the viewport to his left.

_(Well)_

Reaches out with both hands to take up the small hat that’s placed there.

_(Need a little time to wake up, wake up)_

He walks to the mirror, turning on his heel and managing the distance in three long strides, the same way he does every morning.

_(Well)_

He holds the hat above his head, and slowly lets it descend.

_(What's the story, morning glory?)_

He stands tall and proud as he crowns himself.

_(Well)_

You need a little time to wake up wake up

_(Well)_

He wonders if his father would be proud. Decides he doesn’t care.

_(What's the story, morning glory?)_

This is _his_ story, _his_ narrative, and in the end, the only opinon that matters is the winner’s. He intends to be that victor.

_(Well)_

Chin held high and now dressed in his full regalia, Hux takes a moment to drink in his own reflection.

_(Need a little time to wake up, wake up)_

He glories in the military splendor of it all. In the knowledge that someday soon, the entire galaxy will bow to the man in the mirror. To what he has built for them, what he has brought them.

_(Well)_

Order out of chaos. That is what he will give his people.

_(What's the story, morning glory?)_

He pulls his well-worn black gloves from the pockets of his coat. Slides the supple leather on, encasing his right hand in a second skin.

_(I said, well)_

He repeats the movement with his left glove as he turns and four short strides take him right up to the doorway.

_(Need a little time to wake up, wake up)_

He flexes his facial muscles once, grabs his datapad from where he left it on the boot bench, and disengages the lock.

He’s ready to conquer the day.

 

 


End file.
